Selling Sex
by The 0dd 0ne
Summary: Finn Hudson should not have to worry about being thrown into dumpsters or slushied by the football team. He is the quarterback after all. But he's also been blackmailed by Mr. Schue to join "Homo Explosion Club." And he's going to basically dry hump Rachel Berry in front of the entire school. Kill him now. Implied Finchel / High T / One-Shot /AUish R


Your football team is going to maul you. Not only are you in "Homo Explosion Club" - stupid Mr. Schue _had_ to blackmail you - but you're going to perform a disco song. In the 21st century. In front of the entire school. Kill you now.

Please?

_Nothing. _Fuck you too, God. Cockgoblin.

You bring your face into your large palms, letting out a groan. Rachel had insisted on an "emergency Glee meeting" via email the other day. Stupid enthusiastic, talkative, obnoxious Rachel with the really pretty eyes & great ass. _No._ Bad Finn, you have a girlfriend. And Rachel is really obnoxious. And loud. And small. It's like she's an elf. Hasn't Coach Sylvester called her one before? Yeah, you think she has. It sounds like something she'd do.

The most important assembly ever (for you at least) is only 12 days away and you just wants to curl up into a ball and die, but Rachel is Rachel and refusal meant a long, drawn out speech about why the meeting is so important so it was easier to just say yes. With another melodramatic groan, you roll out of bed (quite literally) and head to the bathroom for a much needed cold shower.

Stupid morning wood.

* * *

When you finally arrive at school, after a long shower, the day goes by slowly. When it's over, you slump to the gym, the designated meeting spot, to see a cross-legged Rachel in one of her signature short skirts - _God,_ why do you make it so hard (pun unintended) to _not_ stare at her legs.

. . .

And today, her white panties.

Holy shit.

Is this heaven?

Maybe.

Wait, she's talking. You wouldn't have a talking Rachel in your heaven. She would shut up unless she was screaming your name. You're pretty sure the other Glee clubbers wouldn't be there either. Blegh.

"Good, you're finally here," she briskly walks up to you with crossed arms & perfect balance.

"Uh, sorry I'm late?" You offer, having been unaware of any real set meeting time - she'd said, and you quote, "Be here before 10 a.m." And here you are, here before 10. Girls are so confusing. Or maybe you're just stupid . . . Nah, girls are just confusing; they say one thing, they mean another, they're mad about something but they say they aren't, they scream at you then they're in tears - girls must all be bipolar or something. Especially Rachel. You'd hate to deal with _her _on her period. Oh _God._ _Rachel_ PMSing; one word: horrifying. She's already kind of _really_ scary.

She clicks her tongue and gestures to the bleachers. You awkwardly seat yourself, noticing that yes, you are late. Well, compared to everyone else. All of New Directions is already there, Lewis included - well, duh, he's Rachel's twin, they arrived together. Why is Lewis staring at you like that - oh crap, did Lewis see you staring at Rachel's panties? No one wonder his violet eyes are narrowed & calculating - is he planning your death? Well, most guys wouldn't like it if you stared at their little sister's panties. But Lewis is a nice guy . . . A nice guy who's given Puck several black eyes since the seventh grade because of the whole slushying Rachel thing. He's also gotten into a few fights with footballers, even Kafarsoky.

. . .

Yeah, he totally would kill you.

Has Rachel been talking this whole time? Wow, you've gotten good at tuning her out; kudos to you. Wait, you don't know what kudos means, do you? Well, props then.

Gah, Rachel's still talking, quick, Finn, fake like you're paying attention!

She calls the meeting into session & you point out that Mr. Schuester isn't here, to which she says she paid off some Freshman to stall him. You didn't expect Rachel of all people to bribe anyone. Mercedes complains about Rachel & you think you're doing a good job of feigning interest. A few more people speak, nothing you really pay attention to.

Then, she says the last thing you'd ever expect Rachel Berry to say - after "I hate music" and "I'm not talented" of course. "Sex." You feels your jaw fall open as the realization of what she just said hits you. Really, fully hits you.

Since when does Rachel Berry catch attention like this? Since when does Rachel Berry use only a single word (he seriously didn't think that was possible)? Since when does Rachel Berry, knee socks, short skirts, sweaters, insanely talented loser, make you, Finn Hudson, quarterback, tall, dark, and handsome, very talented & popular, stare at her like this?

When she talks about sex. Like the celibacy club thing. Was she being serious? You hope so. That would be awesome.

"What?" You breathe out.

"Sex, Finn. You know, sexual intercourse, reproduction, making love?

"I was thinking, to avoid you being mauled by your own teammates after the assembly, instead of doing a far outdated disco comeback song, we would do a song with sexual undertones and give everyone a dance partner of the opposite gender to illicitly dance with so your neanderthal friends would quit believing you might be gay. Any song ideas?" She brightly speaks as if she says this everyday - which you hope she doesn't.

"You . . . you want us to - to sell sex?" You gawk at her - she's Rachel Berry, there's no way she would break the rules so boldly. . . . Would she?

"If the shoe fits." She blinks at you. You gulps. Oh. God.

Is there no mercy?

"M-maybe we could . . ." You all frown. What did Tina just offer?

"Could you repeat that?" Rachel kindly steps forward, bending down to listen to the shy girl. After a moment she stands up straight again. Straightening her slightly crinkled skirt, she says, "Tina would like us to try SexyBack or Buttons." You gawk at her a little more, wondering how she can say that so plainly with her fancy little flourishing hand movements.

"Oh hell to the no - we need a song that we can _all_ sing." Mercedes intrudes. Ah, Mercedes. Sassing people since whenever the hell she was born.

"She's right." Artie nods. "Maybe we could try Push It by Salt-n-Pepa. It's got perfect blatantly sexual undertones and parts for us all."

"And the dance opportunities are good. The outfit possibilities are a definite plus." Kurt agrees, a hand carelessly placed on his hip. "So, it's up to you, Rachel - remind me never to say that again, it caused me pain."

"Yeah, that could work - and we won't get expelled for that. So, I'll pair everyone up: Mercedes, you and Kurt work well together and since you'll be picking out wardrobe, you two should be partners. Now, Tina, you and Artie seem to be good friends and get along well, so you two should be able to be partners without it being too awkward. Lewis, since we lack an even number of girls, I want you to dance around a little with everyone - "

"So, you want me to be a man whore, Rachel?" He asks, biting back a laugh.

"I can see that," Kurt says, giving Lewis a one up.

"You can see me as a man whore? Thank you, Kurt, anyone else want to offend me?" Lewis sarcastically asks.

"And that leaves Finn and I." She smiles brightly to stop an argument and, as oblivious as you are, you feel that she didn't leave herself to be partnered with you by accident.

You all spend only 2 and a half hours (Rachel is going easy on them - and yes, 2 and a half hours is easy considering who's running things) going through the lyrics until Rachel is satisfied. Several breaks are allowed during this time period so you won't hurt your vocal chords. Water bottles are plentiful in supply but you are all warned not to drink too much to avoid excessive peeing (her wording is hilarious, you guys snicker at it until she glares at you.

When Rachel begins choreographing the song, you swear you almost pop a boner -_ mailman, mailman, mailman._ She just sets up your positions for the curtains unveiling and BAM! Insta-Boner, just remove clothing. Well, you don't need to remove clothing, you are dating Quinn after all. Quinn and her stupid abstinence shit - damned hard core Christians and celibacy club.

When she gets in position, ass in front of your crotch, you gulp. _Oh. My. God._

"Finn, hands." She hisses, blatantly annoyed by your lack of cooperation. You nod quickly with a muttered yeah, then awkwardly set your hands on her hips, stepping forward so, unfortunately for you, your hardening member is touching her ass.

_MAILMAN!_ You manage to calm yourself enough so she won't feel your . . . "excitement." As the music starts, she directs the girls. You watch her touch herself and feel like a freakin' dumbass; just standing there with a hard-on.

It's then that you realizes, you're going to _hate_ selling sex.


End file.
